Alfie was attempting to digest Niamh's words. To hear her say she didn't think she would ever be able to trust him again hurt more than anything else in his life ever had. What hurt even more was knowing that he only had himself to blame.
He should have told her the truth from the beginning. He should have told her that he made a mistake and that he was trying to fix it. He should have told her that Levi Janowicz had somehow managed to get the better of him and that he would sort it out, but instead he'd convinced himself that he was protecting her by lying. Or deep down was it that his ego wouldn't allow him to tell his woman that he was certain he had found someone he couldn't stop?
Before Alfie had the chance to think more on that humbling realisation, there was an almighty bang as the front door downstairs burst open suddenly and shouts and footsteps tore through the house. Alfie reached for Niamh, shoving her behind him as she reached for the baby in the bassinet just as the bedroom door was kicked down and a flurry of uniformed bodies entered the room.
"Alfie!" Niamh screamed as the baby was yanked out of her hands and she was grabbed by two policemen; one either side of her and another coming to grab onto her legs as she tried to kick her way out of their hold.
But it was futile. There were too many of them and they overpowered both her and Alfie easily, carrying Niamh down the stairs as Alfie roared threats and obscenities that didn't deter the men restraining him. In fact they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
The household was in complete and utter chaos. The children were screaming and crying as Ollie tried to comfort them while Karina, who was cradling the baby who had been handed to her with disdain by one of the policemen, sobbed in horror; and Ishmael, who had been waiting for Alfie in the car, was being restrained alongside his boss.
If Alfie had been wild and unhinged earlier on when he had beaten his young and innocent employee to death, it was nothing compared to the ferocity with which he fought against his human restraints now, barely even pausing when the police holding him hit him in the stomach or the face with their fists. It wasn't that they hurt him to restrain him, more that they just wanted the amusement of laying a hand on the great Alfie Solomons as well as taunting him as he listened to his wife screaming and shouting for him to help her as she was carried off into the night wearing nothing more than a thin night dress.
"Dirty fucking kike," one of the men spat in Alfie's face.
"The mighty Alfie Solomons really aint so mighty any more is he? Maybe we ought to show Mrs Solomons what a real man can do," another chortled.
"Don't you fuckin' touch her!" Alfie hollered, opening his mouth for another angry tirade that was swiftly cut off when one of the policemen punched him so hard again in the stomach that it knocked the breath right out of him.
"We'll take extra good care of your wife," the policeman chuckled and then they were all gone, leaving Alfie feeling more helpless than he ever had in his entire life.
As the sound of the cars disappeared, Ollie finally let go of his children, who immediately made a move to run to their mother, and moved over to Alfie, who was on all fours on the floor staring at the door as though he was praying to see Niamh walking through it again any moment.
"I'll get Friedman on the phone," Ollie put a hand on Alfie's shoulder.
Alfie's lawyer, a small but formidable man, would know exactly how to get Niamh out as quickly as possible.
"Alfie," Ollie squeezed Alfie's shoulder, forcing his attention on him finally. "We'll get her out, I promise."
… … … …
The cell was cold and it was damp. The dripping of rain coming in through a hole in the corner seemed to serve as a reminder that freedom was just above her, and she wondered for a moment if she would ever see it again. Of course she would. Alfie would get her out. She knew this because for all that she couldn't trust him not to lie to her again, she could trust that he would do anything and everything to get her out of here.
She glanced up when she heard the loud clunk of the key in the cell door and the screech of the deadbolt as it was pulled across. When the door opened, she wrapped her arms around herself to shield the prison officer from staring at her body through the thin nightgown she wore.
"Get up," he growled, yanking her up by the arm before she even had the chance to do as she had been asked.
"Where are we going?" she whimpered as his fingers bit into her skin hard.
"You've got a visitor," came the curt reply, before she was dragged through the darkened corridors, turning this way and that until she had no idea how far they had gone.
Eventually they reached a small room and Niamh was grabbed by another man, this one not a police man though. His hair was greying and even in the darkened room she could make out the prominent bald patch on the top of his head. Pulling her into the room, his eyes darted down to her chest which was heaving with fear and the look in his cold orbs frightened her.
"Best check you're not hiding anything you shouldn't be," he leered, one of his hands gripping her face hard while his other cupped each of her breasts in turn.
Tears rolled down Niamh's cheeks and her bottom lip trembled as bile rose in her throat. The man's free hand ran down her flat stomach, fingers brushing across her centre, cupping slightly and then yanking up the skirt of her nightgown in order to trail his fingers up her thighs, forcing his hand in between them when he neared her underwear. Niamh sobbed when a calloused finger dipped just beneath and the waistband of her knickers and she-
"That's not how we treat our special guests, my friend," another voice made the man holding her pause suddenly. "Come now, Levi, let her go."
Niamh let out a shaky breath and her legs threatened to buckle when the man reluctantly stepped back, the annoyance in his eyes evident before another man appeared in her line of sight.
An older man with eyes that were intimately familiar yet entirely alien to her smiled kindly but there was something in the sea coloured depths that put her on edge, even as he led her gently to a small table and chairs, seating her in a most gentlemanly fashion. He poured a glass of water for the jug on the table and slid it towards Niamh, pouring himself one and taking a sip so that she knew it wasn't contaminated in any way.
"I apologise for what has undoubtedly been a harrowing night for you," the man began. "However, I wanted to see the woman who has brought the mighty Alfie Solomons to his knees. And now that Alfie knows who he can and can't trust, I knew this was the only way to get to you."
"You're not Levi Janowicz?" Niamh frowned, her eyes flickering briefly to the man who had touched her; the man that the one before her had referred to as Levi instead.
"Clever girl," the older man muttered. "Beauty and brains. No wonder Alfie is so smitten."
"There was nothing clever about it," Niamh murmured. "You called him Levi and I took a guess that there weren't two of you by the same name. I'm also guessing that Levi Janowicz is merely your mouth piece? So who are you and what do you want?"
"You know what I want," the man answered coldly. "Alfie knows what I want."
"To take down my family."
"Indeed. And Alfie betrayed me."
"He didn't betray you, he merely changed his mind," Niamh's voice quivered and she wished she sounded braver.
"A deal is a deal, Mrs Solomons," the man seemed to find calling her by that name somewhat amusing. "And the deal your husband made with me came before he agreed to the one with your brother for you. I was kind enough to warn him and to give him plenty of chances to rethink his decision but he's always been a stubborn little bastard."
"And what do you hope to achieve by this… by me being here?"
"I want to give him one final chance," the man answered simply. "After all, what kind of father would I be if I gave up on my son so easily; especially when said son is only doing what I would probably do if the shoe was on the other foot."
Niamh's mouth dropped open before she could stop and suddenly she understood why she recognised his eyes; why he seemed so familiar.
"Oh I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell my son about this conversation," Alfie Solomons Senior chortled darkly. "If his face looks even the slightest bit like yours does it would be most amusing indeed."
"Alfie said that you were… he hasn't seen you in-"
"A long time, yes. More years than he can probably count," Solomons nodded. "And I know he thinks he hates me for leaving him and his mother and for all of the other women I was fond of, but I'm his father whether he likes it or not and what's his is mine. He would be nothing without me; without the drive and determination that came from my leaving. So you will be escorted back home shortly where you will give him the letter I have written. He will acquiesce to my demands or the next time I have you brought here, you'll be leaving in pieces."
He leaned forward and let one of his hands reach out to touch Niamh's hair, sliding his fingers down the long curl that came to an end atop her breast. When those same fingers lingered there, she couldn't conceal a shiver of disgust from rippling through her body.
"It's a shame you're not Jewish because the grandsons you could give me really would be quite something," Solomons frowned. "But if Alfie does as he's told I might let him keep you for other purposes. Welcome to the family, Niamh."